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boogiewrites · 5 years

Text

A Girl Walks Into A Bar 6

Characters: Declan Harp x Bella Fiore (OFC)

Word Count: 6400+

Summary: Modern Declan harp AU. Bella finds herself warming up to Declan. A friend of a friend lets her know Declan has some skeletons in his closet. When she asks, he gives an honest answer. He can see in her eyes that she has some skeletons too.

Warnings/Tags: Language. Drinking. Talk of violence, murder.

Click on my screen name then go to Mobile Masterlist in my bio for my other works and chapters. (Had to do this since Tumblr killed links, sorry.)

As it had been going, it was the day of your weekly meet up at the bar with Declan. It'd become a welcome part of your routine and a much-needed stress reliever. The men that were usually at the bar were used to you now, being on a first name basis. They weren't exactly warm to you, they didn't invite you over to talk with them or anything, not that you wanted that, but they would give you affirmative nods when you'd enter and that was a nice feeling. Always better to have the bikers on your side than against you.

This day was much like the first that had brought you to the bar in the first place. You'd been mansplained to for the day by boys half your age about guitar. You weren't as angry as you were tired, but at least you had your truck back to comfort you instead of being stuck on foot. So you rumble up in your old Ford, parking at the end of the sidewalk after all the motorcycles took the good spots in front of the bar. You take a deep breath and rub between your eyes, not wanting to go in with a bad mood looming as you wanted to enjoy the time you spent at the bar. You had the tendency to come in with a chip on your shoulder from work on Fridays, and you didn't want Declan to think that you were only capable of being grumpy and nothing else. Although historically, and if you asked anyone who knew you, friendly would not be at the top of the list of descriptors for you.

It's April now, over three months since you'd become a regular at The Trading Post. The cold and wind were still holding up strong, especially after the sun went down. You feel the wind bite at you as you pull your leather jacket tight around you, your company logo sweatshirt not providing much insulation. Your boots crunch over gravel and coarse salt, hand shoved into your pockets as you make your way into the warm shelter the bar offers.

The heat flushes your face as you walk in, the bar moving with bodies as it was on a Friday night. Mike passes you, a friendly smile a strong nod that you politely return, starting to peel your jacket off. You begin to move to your corner of the bar that you like to perch at, but find it taken. You twitch your lips in consideration for where to sit, as you don't want to sit between two men you don't know anything about except their nicknames. You choose a booth and even though he's currently focusing on filling pint glasses, Declan sees you walking past to a different seat than usual.

"Mike!" he calls out, watching you slide into the green patched leather benched seat.

"I know! Got it!" Mike says, finishing wiping down a table as he quickly moves to behind the bar. He knew Declan had been waiting for you to show up like he always did. He hadn't given him any shit for it yet, at least nothing more than a few insinuating glances, but if he left him alone once the bar got crowded, he would have a lot more to say to him once you left.

Declan pats his back as a thank you, as he carries himself with a confident saunter towards you, your favorite ale in hand. "Hey, Bella." he says with an earnest smile, the words spoken almost in an exhale that made you warm on sight. You rise from the booth, and as is customary now, you let him hug you.

"Hey Declan." you try to sound more enthusiastic about his appearance but words come out as a grumble against the soft flannel of his shirt. He didn't usually wear a lot of layers, but he had a worn t-shirt underneath flannel shirt tonight and you'd be lying to yourself if you said the added bulk wasn't serving him plenty of favors in the attractiveness department.

"What's wrong babe?" he questions, a sight rub to your back as he sets the bottle in front of you and you both slide into opposite benches. "Work again?" he suggests, putting the bottle cap to your ale into his pocket to throw away later.

"Yeah." you groan and roll your eyes. "Stupid kids half my age tryin' to tell me I don't know what I'm talkin' about." you take a big swig of your drink.

"About music?" he scoffs with raised brows, making the arches even more prominent over the dark hazel eyes.

"Mmm Hmm." you nod, sucking your teeth and looking around the bar, with more people filing in.

"Are they fuckin' stupid?" he says with a laugh. "No one I know knows more about music than you."

"Thank you." you give him a supportive nod. "The little asshole knows three chords and think's he's gonna be the next Cobain when he can't write lyrics for shit. It was popular in the '90s because it was new. It was the beginning of a movement. It's not as groundbreaking to write angst over some banged out chords nowadays. Everyone one of these little pricks think they're so fucking talented." you shake your head.

"Ah. White teenage boy?" he chuckles.

"They're the worst." your groan turns into a chuckle. "The only upset they have in their lives is their mothers buying them the wrong color iPhone for Christmas and they think they know pain." you rub your temple. "He literally had the words, I hate my parents, I hate myself, I hate you... like...what am I supposed to do with that? Tell him it's any good?"

"Is that what your boss told you to do?"

"Nah, CeeCee is understanding. She's the brain and I'm the heart. So if I don't feel anything from it, it won't be any good." you shake your head and take another drink. "She trusts my judgment." your face softens a bit and he's glad to learn more about where you work, you never really talked about your coworkers.

"That's more than most people get." he says supportively.

"Oh yeah, no, I'm lucky she understands me and my lunacy." you smile. "But privileged little boys do NOT, however." you purse your lips. "I told him I could lie to him, but I wouldn't because he was paying for my expertise. He didn't want constructive criticism though."

"Most people don't." he grins. "Can't handle it. Takes a secure person to realize they might not be right all the time. And those are few and far between." he muses.

"Amen." you say, reaching out to clink your bottles together. You take a drink and you take a second to look him over, admiring the lumberjack vibe he was giving off. You must've looked a little too long.

"What?" he asks with a grin.

"Could I give you some constructive criticism?" you throw a cocky nod his way.

"Will it make me cry?" he pouts.

"I don't think so." you grin.

"Then hit me." he says, thwacking his hand on the table.

"I fully support this... lumberjack vibe you got goin' on." you say, moving your hand in front of you.

"OH!" he says with a genuine smile. "Thanks." he lets out an almost bashful chuckle.

"Any reason you've strayed from your usual humbled rockstar look?" you tease.

"We had a bunch of orders come in today, spent most of the day with the back doors open and loading and unloading trucks from the street. Get's cold." he says, tugging on the black beanie on his head.

"I like it. Works for you." you give him a considerate nod. You are aware you'd just given him a compliment, and by the way his lips tug back, the tension in his jaw as he holds back from it growing farther across his bearded face, you can see he certainly noticed.

"Thanks." he says proudly, letting a smile break through, showing his teeth. He knows a blush is growing, not expecting a compliment from you and thinks of a way to hide it. He pulls the beanie off, throwing it onto the table and ruffles his naturally loose curled hair, hanging past his shoulders. You get hit with the smell of him and your pupils dilate. You were defenseless against pheromones. Or whatever delicious, masculine smell was coming off him. A faint musk, whether from him or cologne you weren't certain. Faint smell of woods or ocean, maybe shampoo. He scratches his head and scrunches his face, letting his scalp breathe again. "What about you? Sweatshirts aren't something I've seen you in before. And with a heart on it? That's not on brand at all." he lets out a deep teasing chuckle.

"Oh but it is!" you say condescendingly. "This is the name of our company." you say looking down and holding out the logo for your and Grace's studio. A logo with a cartoon heart and an italicized word 'sounds' after it in bold text.

"I didn't know it was your company." he says impressed, he thought you only worked at the studio. "Me and CeeCee went in half and half on it when we first started. I was working at a music store, squirreling away every bit I could, playing bars on weekends and teaching guitar lessons, just trying to get by. CeeCee, at the time, was married to a rather well off guy and we met by fate one night when I was playing at his office's new years party. We oddly hit it off, which is rare for me." you roll your eyes and smile. "And a year or so later we started this company, bought the building and the equipment, all that. We're legit." you nod and say with a proud smile.

He looks you over for a moment, the pleased smile, the new knowledge he had about what made you, you, it all gave way to a feeling of being proud of you himself. It explained the long hours worked, the clear passion and intelligence about what you worked in, the skill you'd honed in your instrument of choice. It was clear you were very driven and had been for some time, the realization makes him like you more. In his experience, things that were worked hard for had felt more worth it in the end and with how he was slowly chipping away at you he was hoping the initial hardness and hesitancy you had shown to letting him in would also fall away and in the end be worth it. He saw a lot of potential in you, for a lot of different things. An honest and loyal friend, someone to help him with his business, as you were running a successful one and he could always learn from you. And the one that he didn't want to admit yet, but was becoming more and more obvious to him, he saw the potential for you to be more than just friends. But he didn't want to get ahead of himself.

"I thought it'd be another band I've never heard of." he shrugs. "But the truth is much more interesting." he says earnestly.

"It usually is." you grin. "You wanna know another truth?" you ask leaning in closer.

"Duh." he laughs.

"I'm only wearing this because it's laundry day." you laugh and admit, taking another drink.

"Ah! The most dreaded of all days. Free ballin', shirt you don't really wanna wear and jeans that have gone one too many days without being washed." he muses and you laugh.

"You get it!" you let out a more animated laugh. "Although there isn't much free ballin' happenin' on this side of the table." you snort. "Due to the lack of... well... balls." you say in a goofy way with a motion of your hands in explanation.

"Yeah, what's it called when girls do it?" he narrows his eyes in thought.

"That's just commando right?" you wrinkle your nose as you think.

"Ah, yeah." he nods. "I forget that's the unisex term for it."

"I call it free ballin' too." you chuckle. "To be fair." you shrug and take another drink. "Just... sounds more crude and funny."

"Which seems like your kind of thing."

"Most definitely." you laugh.

He sees you looking over his shoulder. "What?" he asks, turning around.

"Lots of people in here tonight."

"Yeah, it's Jon's birthday," he says, turning back. "There'll be more people in the closer it gets to nine." he explains.

"Do I know Jon?" you ask with a tilted head.

"You referred to him as a second rate hype man that couldn't shut the fuck up." he laughs.

"Yeah I remember that guy." you nod and take a drink. "I guess that means a good business night though." you say optimistically.

"Yeah." he drags the word out. He was grateful for the bump but, it meant he wouldn't be spending his time sitting and talking to you and he didn't see you as often as he'd like already. But he also didn't want to ask to hang out and make it weird. With someone like you he had to let you come to him. "It is getting busy..." he says in a distracted way. "I guess I need to go help Mike." he says, sucking his teeth and downing the rest of the bottle.

"Yeah, go ahead. Don't need my permission." you smile and wave him towards the bar.

"You gonna stick around?" he asks, you can hear the hopeful lilt to it, how could you say no.

"And miss these guys make asses of themselves? No way. 'Course I'm stayin'." you give him a friendly smile to take the edge off his disheartened eyes.

"Might need you around to help me keep these guys in line." he smirks.

"At your service." you nod supportively. "Maybe we can try to hang out before next Friday? Since there won't be much hangin' goin' on tonight?" you offer, testing his reaction to see if he was hesitant to leave your company and in his long exhale you see your guess is correct.

"Yeah, on a night when it's slow." he nods.

"Let's make it through tonight and when it thins out and you can come talk to me again, we'll figure it out." you say casually with a shrug, leaning back and taking another drink.

"You always have good plans, Bells." he grins and shoots a finger gun your way before heading back to the bar. You see Mike give him grief, and you're guessing by the way they both laugh and shove each other it might've been about you.

You're left looking over the carvings in the table top. All crudely done with pocketknives and surely the vandalism was motivated by alcohol. Dates go back to the '80s, you run your fingers over the letters and names, Dina + Ronnie 4 Ever '88, Shirley + Lenny '94. You wonder where they're at now, and how hanging out at a bar had worked out for them. It seemed to be working out pretty well so far for you. You weren't entirely sure just yet. Neither of you were making any moves to have the relationship push past friendship, and you were forever grateful for that on his behalf. For now, a good friend was what you needed, and he certainly seemed to fit the bill. You knew you should make more of an effort to hang out with him outside of his work but he did work a lot, and also the hours when you traditionally would be off of work. You were sort of working with what you were given.

You watch him working, his flannel now unbuttoned, hat shoved in his back pocket with his soft hair bouncing around his shoulders. He engages with every person, being warm and friendly and you wonder how he does it. His tall form leans over the bartop for hugs and cheek kisses, to both men and women and you find yourself charmed. It was hard not to be, the man looked like he could crush you but his demeanor was like that of a puppy's, and who didn't love puppies? You wonder when cheek kisses might be introduced into the repertoire of your greetings. He'd worked hugs in pretty seamlessly, you have to give it to the guy. If the girls at work saw you hug a guy they'd assume you were married. You weren't the hugging type. But it seemed you'd made an exception for Declan, hadn't you?

He was turning out to be an exception to the rule for men for you as well. Polite, humble, hardworking and still somehow also extremely good looking. You weren't sure how that all managed to fall in place, but you figure you should bake his mother some cannoli or something for the work she must've put in to raise such a man. Maybe that's what it was? He was a man. He wasn't a boy. He was a giant dork and goof ass sure, but he was responsible and kind, intelligent and industrious and you wondered if he was the first man, besides your father, you'd spent any real time with.

All the boys you'd dated before were just that...boys. Your first relationship, a hellish shit show of a Greek tragedy that'd turned out to be. You still had the physical and emotional scarring and trauma to prove it, A few casual encounters of off and on dates that never lead anywhere, not that you'd wanted them to. One night stands more often when you were younger, but it'd been a long time since you'd had the urge for that. You'd deleted tinder ages ago and work had replaced any time you'd spent putting effort into finding sex. There had been one guy you thought was nice, but in hindsight maybe that was because he just did everything you told him to. You suppose it doesn't really matter, that one was nipped in the bud fast too. You finish the rest of your bottle, brow furrowing in thought at how it ended, and if it'd happen again if you tried. You decide you don't want to think about that tonight and go get another bottle. Declan opens it with his hand by raising his shirt up and twisting it off for you, a not too suggestive wink to you as he hands it off and he's beckoned by people much louder than you to the other end of the bar.

You take your seat back, watching the crowd, eavesdropping and staring into a mirror that reflected a dark room in the back, you still hadn't found out what was back there and just as you feel the pull to explore, someone sits in the booth across from you. Much to your surprise, it's a girl you haven't seen before. Thin body and lips, blonde hair and a strong jaw sit with a seemingly friendly indifference.

"You mind if I sit here?" she asks, taking off her jacket. "Everywhere else is full or too full 'a drunks." she says with a smile.

"Uh, yeah that's fine." you say with a shrug, your face straight, you go back to nursing your drink.

"Thanks. Bella, is it?" she asks, holding out her hand.

You did like a woman who shook hands, but you weren't sure how she knew your name.

"Heard Declan call ya it when you went up to the bar." she explains, watching the realization come across your face as you blink slowly and nod.

"Oh, okay. I was about to say..." you let out a huff of a laugh for politeness's sake and raise your brows to show your uneasiness and to push back any unwanted pursuit of friendship.

"I'm Clenna," she says with a nod, taking out a pack of cigarettes. "I'm a friend of a friend of Mike's," she explains further. "Here for Jon's birthday." she lights it and thankfully blows it away from your face.

"I'm just here to drink." you say flatly, raising attention to your bottle. "I don't know Jon or anything." you elaborate.

"Oh, you not here for Declan then?" she asks, a furrow in her brow that you aren't sure if you like or not.

"Excuse you?" you ask with only a hint of unfriendliness.

"I saw him with ya earlier." she motions to him with her hand. "With that sorta attention I thought you two might be seein' each other."

You stare at her. What you were was none of her business. She takes a drag and picks up on your unwillingness to share, your confident look of question at her telling her you weren't like the other girls that she'd seen after Declan. They were too open, bubbly even, and usually much, much more drunk. "No." you answer flatly, taking another drink.

"I mean ya no harm," she says leaning in closer. "I just thought it was a good thing you were with him now... ya know... instead of years ago. Seein' as he seems like a different man now 'n all." she says in a more serious tone.

"I'm not with him. We're just friends."

"Well good on that then." she nods. "What with his history 'n that." she says, looking over to him.

You sigh, seeing she's trying to rope you into something. And granted, you knew very little about Declan's past and you could just ask him about whatever she told you later. "Alright. I'll bite." you say with pursed lips.

"If you were thinkin' about bein' with him in any capacity, as one woman to another, there are some things I'd want to know if I were you." she begins. "He is a decent man now, rather peaceful for the sort of place he runs, but he wasn't always ya know."

"Go on." you say, leaning in closer to her on the table.

"I've lived 'round here forever, hell, I even dated Mike for years when's we's young." she shrugs and huffs out a laugh. "And I've heard of the things he's done, seen what consequences people faced from crossin' him. Although if you'd asked him, he did everything in the name of justice, only givin' it to people what deserved it. But to some violence is violence, no matter tha motive." she nods. "He was the man you went to when you had trouble with someone." she lowers her voice. "Known for his ability to find people, his fondness for knives..." she adds with a raise of her brows. "It's even rumored 'round here he's behind the death of a cop."

"I knew he was a part of the Black Wolves." you say, gesturing to the room full of vests with patches that reflected that sentiment.

"Aye. He did leave that. And he got out because of murderin' that man so I'm told." she takes another drag. "The Wolves ain't so much murderers 'n rapists 'n all that nonsense. They love their bikes and their beer and to have their fun and not be bothered. Rather loud and rough, seemingly trouble to anyone who don't know 'em. But anyone who gives themselves a name, calls themselves a gang, there's gonna be rivals and those others might not be as civil as they are, ya know?" she shrugs. "So there's police sniffin' 'round sometimes, lookin' for men to blame. There have been murders, I won't pretend like there's not been... but you know men." she rolls her eyes. "Territorial and that." she nods. "A person can only take so much before they'll retaliate ya know?" she says in a less mysterious tone.

"Why are you telling me this?" you ask with a deeper tone.

"Like I said, I saw him give ya a wink and leave his post to talk to ya, I thought there might be somethin' going's on. I don't know ya, so I know ya ain't from 'round here, so I was tryin' to let you know what sorta trouble might be lurkin' 'round if ya were to stay with this sort of company. If I were someone who didn't know, I'd want to know. That's all."

"Are you some vengeful ex or something?" you flatly ask.

"Oh no." she chuckles and shakes her head. "Only dated Mike, and we's teens then. Water under the bridge now. But I knew Declan then, and I know of him now, and as much as he's cleaned up his act there's always a threat 'a violence around this sort. I know Declan likes to act like he forgets his past, that's he's beyond it now, but... you don't live that hard for that long and just one day leave it behind forever." she sighs. "As one woman to another I dinnae wantin' ya gettin' in over ya head."

"Okay." you nod and take a drink. "If that's true then... thanks." you say with a suspicious glance.

"What the fuck's she doin'?" Mike mumbles, looking over at Clenna talking to you. He knew you didn't know each other, and from the look on your face, the conversation seemed to something you were paying attention to, and something was rubbing him the wrong way. "Fair warnin'." Mike says as the bar starts to thin out. "Clenna was talkin' to Bella earlier."

"Yeah I saw." he mutters, wiping a glass.

"We was busy, didn't catch wind of the topic but..." he shrugs, lips tight.

"Yeah, I get it." Declan says low, looking over to you as you scrolled through your phone alone.

Every time he'd look up and see a guy sitting across from you, he'd get a tingle in his spine that had to right to be there. A knee jerk habit of possessiveness that kept coming back. When they'd end up leaving, or you would, it eased his mind. You'd sit there, sometimes not even looking up from your phone, others he could feel the air from your heavy sighs as they tried to talk to you. As the night went on, and they got more drunk, you became more obvious with your rejections.

You'd get in on a game of pool with a group of older, less wasted men. He could've watched you bend over that pool table all night and he knew he wasn't the only one. But after losing a few games, feeling defeated and not as self-assured, he could tell by their poor postures that they weren't going to be a threat. But as they thinned, the younger, drunker ones caught eyes of you and your ass in those tight jeans and descended. He only worried a little, knowing you could probably handle yourself and was thankful that proved true. His ears perked up the one time he hears your voice raise but watching the interaction go down, he trusts you to handle it. The last thing he wanted was to piss you off by treating you like some damsel. He didn't catch what the guy did but you had him against a wall with the pool cue pressed against his neck and he quickly surrendered, moving to sulk somewhere else. No one really wanted to play with you after that and seeing that you actually knew what you were doing, beating them after they kept offering to show you the ropes. Seems your stories of hanging out and playing in bars were true. He wondered if you also knew how to play darts.

Only a handful of people remain, and you've settled back into a booth, and your thumbs moved fast on the screen, wearing a rather adorable unfiltered face of concentration.

"We survived." he says, plopping down in the booth across from you and startling you out of your focus.

"Ah." you saw, looking around and seeing the bar much emptier than the last time you'd looked. "So we did." you nod and give him a soft smile.

"Can I be nosey and ask what you're doing?" he leans in and asks.

"Playing trivia." you say with a small smile and setting your phone down.

"Any good?" he inquires with a lifted brow.

"I am." you nod and lean forward on the table. "But I think I'd rather ask you some questions if that's alright."

You face isn't angry, your voice isn't accusatory so he agrees. "Okay?" he says with a shrug.

"Who's Clenna?" you decide to start with. Seeing what truth there was to their relationship would be a good starting point for who was telling the truth.

"Right," he nods, pursing his lips. "Mike said he saw you talking to her." his tone doesn't sound too happy about the fact.

"Yeah she was telling me some things." you reply slowly, considering the tiredness now showing in his face.

"And you'd like to know if what she told you was true." he remarks with a sigh, setting up straight and popping his back before leaning in on his elbows.

"I would." you agree without any b/d attitude. "So who is she?" you ask again.

"Mike's ex. She's around from time to time, occasions like tonight, birthdays and stuff." he answers with a shrug.

"Not yours?" you specify.

"Nah." he quickly answers with a shake of his head.

"Funny. She only talked about you."

"She's been known to sort've...feel girls out before that we're seeing." he begins. "Not that I'm seeing you I just...I guess she saw us together?" he asks.

"That's what she said."

"Kay." he nods. "So what'd she say?"

"That you had a past that I might want to know about." you stay vague.

"Yeah..." he rubs the back of his neck. "I thought that might be it." he sighs and looks away.

"Any truth to that?"

"I don't know what she told you but...yeah, there is." he admits and you nod slowly, happy with how this was going.

"Alright." your voice inflects upwards and his eyes dart to you, expecting to be met with something other than curiousness. "So violence, you were known to "take care of people" I guess is how she put it. Can we start there?"

"Yeah." he draws out again, leaning in closer. "I mean, I've mentioned I ran with a bad crowd. I lacked a father figure growin' up, he wasn't around much and then he got killed." he says with a sadness slowly glazing over his eyes. "So I had a lot of anger and my mom was working her ass off, as a single mom ya know how that goes." he purses his lips. "Got in with a bad crowd. I was big and angry and I beat people up. Got older, got into the gang, more people wanted to mess with me and I had a chip on my shoulder and something to prove. So I did. Often." he nods and shrugs. "Lots of guys I knew, a lot I still do went to jail or got killed so...I felt responsible for these people ya know? The kids and the girls left behind, they didn't have anyone lookin' out for them so there was a lot of standing up for them I took on. Beating up abusive boyfriends mainly, that sort of gig." he explains. "I'll be honest. That still happens sometimes. I try not to interfere but...I really care about these people and a lot of them grew up to make better decisions but sometimes there are still assholes that'll see a single mom and still try to take advantage and if I've promised the guys on the inside I'd look out for them then-" he begins to speak faster, you feel it turning into excuses instead of information.

"Declan." you interrupt and he looks back to your eyes, his large and sad. More of the look that lead to making you refer to him as a puppy. "It's okay," you say quietly, reaching out to put your hand over his. His eyes dart down to it for a few seconds, eyes blinking fast to possibly push back tears that were building with his anger. "I get it," you say with a half smile. "Point of this wasn't to make you upset. I didn't want you getting sad or angry about it." you say with kind eyes that take him entirely off guard. "I just have one more thing I gotta ask." you say with a wince.

"Yeah?" he rasps out.

"There was something about...killing a cop?" you say quietly.

"Yeah." he nods and sniffles as you retreat your hand. "Yeah I..." he lets out a loud sigh. "It's a whole complicated story but...I know you don't want a bunch of grief so...yeah I did." he whispers the last part, face prepared for an onslaught against him.

"Okay. How are you not in jail?" you ask obviously.

"Everyone that knew him wanted him dead. He was a total bastard. Just a real piece of shit." his posture slumps. "Picked on women and children and my friends. Framed a bunch of guys I knew that are still servin' time for things they didn't do. He came after me and those close to me." you see his eyes go far away for a moment before coming back. "There was only one witness, and they wouldn't talk. They wanted them dead just as much as me." You assume this must be Mike. "And everyone else just...didn't talk when the cops came around. There wasn't anything to point to me, I had an alibi, no witnesses, no evidence..." he gestures broadly with his hands, saying it disappeared.

He watches you blink slowly, thinking and wondering if being honest would backfire. But if he'd lied, you would've found out and you'd be gone anyway. So as much as he hated taking the chance, honesty was the best policy and he hoped you saw that.

"But after that I got out of that life. Or I mean...I tried. That sorta life doesn't just disappear overnight." his voice drops low. "I try to have this place, keep the boys out of trouble as much as I can. I don't take jobs anymore, last I beat anyone up was months ago, before I met you..." he looks over to you with cautious optimism. "And that was because this guy had beat one of my friends in front of her kid... I just... I couldn't..." he shakes his head.

"I get it," you say again, a soft smile and a nod. Once again you surprise him. "Everyone's got baggage Declan. Some's just heavier than others." you say with a frown. "And I believe you. I see you being a decent and gentle man and I've seen flashes of the old you sometimes. I know violence and trauma aren't things that just...go away." you say with a huff of a laugh from experience and it warms him. "You don't have to worry about me holding it against you." you let him know and you see his eyes soften. "Your heart's always been in the right place. And that means more than what you did. In my opinion. If you say the guy had it coming then, as far as I'm concerned, he did." you say with a lighter tone.

"You're really just gonna go and be more understanding than I deserve on top of everything else huh?" he smiles sheepishly, rubbing his arm and sitting back.

"LIke I said... I get it." you say with another subtle but soft smile. But he can see it in your eyes, you did get it, you had something similar that rested behind yours as he did his. Perhaps not the same sort of pain but, there was pain there. And that would've explained a whole hell of a lot about you.

"You do get it don't you? I mean...you've been through some stuff haven't you Bells?" he asks quietly, reaching out and putting his hand over yours and the kind gesture makes you want to jerk back because the look in his eyes was so understanding and lacking any judgment.

You tuck your hair behind your ear and nod slowly. "Yeah. I come with baggage too, Declan." you admit. "But I'd rather not talk about it... as hypocritical as that makes me at this moment." you raise your brows and sigh.

"No! No, of course not." he shakes his head and starts to rise, taking your hand and tugging at you.

"What?" you ask with almost scared eyes as your guard was left down.

"We need a hug, c'mere." he tugs at you.

"Are you fuckin' serious?" you let out a chuckle.

"Sure as fuck am, get in here." he says patting his chest. He sees your eyes moves around the bar bashfully. "No one's here to see, Mike won't tell anyone." he offers with a smile.

"Fine." you say, letting him pull you up and into his arms. He was right. You did need a hug. You make full contact as he puts some squeeze into it. You rest your cheek on his chest, put your arms around his waist and he rubs your back for a moment.

"I"m not here to push you Bella. I'm just here. Okay? You know about me now, you've seen me. And as much as you try to hide it, I see there's much of the same thing in your eyes as mine. So I'm... I'm just... I'm here if you need me, alright?" he squeezes you tighter for a moment and you couldn't remember the last time you'd had an embrace with someone like this. Besides family, besides Charlotte, never. "I know you hate this sappy shit but its real so... deal with it." he chuckles to lighten to mood, seeing you smile against his chest.

"I do. But... thanks." you say quietly, slightly muffled from your cheek being pushed against him. You could hear his heart, feel his breathing as he felt your take a big inhale and slow exhale, knowing he'd gotten his point across.

"Thank you for being so fuckin' cool about it. Didn't want to scare you off." he admits, speaking down at you.

"I"m not the runnin' kind." you shake your head, still embraced and you don't want to run from it. It felt too good. "Declan?" you ask, shutting your eyes and his heart thumps as he sees you sigh out again.

"Yeah?" he asks, a super soft smile on his face, big hands still rubbing your back.

"You give really good hugs." you laugh and then burying your face in his chest as you bounce with his laughter.

"I do! Thank you for noticing! I'm great at it. Fuckin'... king of hugs over here." he laughs into your hair.

"Don't get cocky." you say through the laughter, but in all fairness, he had every right to be.

@vale0413 @littledeadgirlwalking @jaegeeeeer

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abracadora-archived · 6 years

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Blindspot

This small fic was inspired by the #greasykeith movement started by @baeyards.

Pairings: Keith/Lance

Word Count: 3004

When a cute boy with lots of piercings and the coolest jacket Keith has ever seen walks into the mechanic shop where Keith works, Keith is… really gay. And slightly confused by how friendly said boy seems to be.

Featuring Mechanic! Keith and Punk! Lance

(Sha/adins don’t interact!!)

Read on AO3 [Although reblogs are appreciated :) ]

The door of the lobby tinkles as someone walks in, bringing in a swoosh of heat from the outside and a burst of noise from the street outside. Keith, in the kitchenette attached to the lobby, ducks his head down and busies himself with the coffee. He briefly considers adding cream or sugar to the dark liquid, and then decides that he can’t be bothered.

He scurries out of the small room, weaving his way through the lobby. He catches a snippet of the conversation between the lady at the front desk and the man standing in front of it. Keith’s eyes flit to the side and he nods shortly at the lady (he’s pretty sure her name is Lilian). The guy, who’s currently leaning with his arms rested on the top of the desk, is slightly taller than Keith but looks to be around his age, and Keith frowns, because this means that he’s most likely here for some car repairs, and that means that he’ll be going to one of the other mechanics.

Keith goes through the lobby and the lounge and pushes past the door that leads into the actual garage. There, he is met with mechanical sounds of metal clanging and tools squeaking and scraping- all of which is familiar and comfortable to Keith. He sees Rolo, an older coworker of his (that Keith is pretty sure he had a crush on in the first few weeks of working here) with half of his body disappearing underneath a car, and Hunk, a coworker of Keith’s age who is pulling out the dents from a recently crashed SUV.

Keith goes over to Hunk.

“How close are you to being done?” he asks.

Hunk glances up at him and frowns slightly. “Half an hour, maybe? Why?”

“There’s this guy at the front desk,” Keith replies monotonously. “He’ll probably need one of you.”

Hunk is observant, and he’s probably known Keith long enough to detect the frustration in his voice. He clucks sympathetically, and then takes a look at the coffee in Keith’s hand. “That thing has no cream or sugar in it, I’m assuming.”

Keith shrugs, and takes a sip of it. Hunk makes a face.

“How,” he says, before turning back to his work.

Keith leans against the wall, not bothering Hunk as he works, but just lazing in his company. Sometimes Keith wishes that he had been hired as a car mechanic instead of a motorbike one- he knows how to work with cars pretty well- but Keith much prefers bikes to cars. Keith He barely scraped by his actual driving test in high school, and nearly got arrested the last time he tried to properly drive.

Customers that need bike repairs aren’t common as those who need car repairs, for understandable reasons. That leaves Keith, who always needed something to do with his hands, with a lot of impatient and jittery energy.

He bounces his leg up and down as he glances back into the lounge. The guy from before leans against the wall of the lounge. He’s dressed in a dark jacket, one of those with the body made of denim and sleeves made out of leather.

People don’t usually pull those off, Keith muses. The jacket is dotted with multiple pins, which Keith can’t describe from this distance, but what Keith can see are the multiple piercings that line his ears. Something akin to envy spikes up within Keith.

“Who’s that guy over there?” he says offhandedly. “He looks legit.”

Hunk’s head pops up from behind the car and his eyes follow Keith’s gaze over to the boy in the lounge. Inexplicably, Hunk barks out a laugh.

“Who? Lance?” he asks.

Keith looks back at Hunk with an expression in his eyes like Hunk just said that tomorrow the sun would turn green. “Who the fuck is Lance?”

“That guy over there.” Hunk ducks back down to the car but continues talking to Keith. “His name’s Lance.” Hunk pats the car and stands up. “He’s a friend of mine. You think he looks legit?”

“Well, I mean.” Keith isn’t sure why he feels flustered. “I like his piercings.”

Hunk clicks his tongue. “Yeah, you would, they’re cool. He has that whole aesthetic going for him, you two could get along. Although-” Hunk pauses, and he eyes Keith outfit. “Your clothes are…a bit less put together than him. And he thinks that fingerless gloves are tacky.”

Keith scowls at him but doesn’t argue. Someone calls his name from near the front building and Keith’s head whips up. The manager of the place stands there with a clipboard in his hands. Keith says bye to Hunk and walks off in that direction, eager for something to do.

“You have someone here for you,” the manager says when Keith approaches.

“For me?”

“Well, for his bike. We brought it out back, it’s a basic gas tank repair. He’s in the lounge right now. He’s Lance McClain.”

Keith’s heart jumps, and he wonders why. A gas tank repair isn’t the most interesting, but Keith is itching to use his hands for something. He nods and heads into the lounge.

The burst of cool air when he walks in is almost a relief to him. He rubs the back of his hand against his forehead, rather uselessly, in an attempt to wipe off the sweat, and then looks at Lance.

“Are you Lance?” he asks, even though he already knows.

Lance turns to him with an eyebrow raised. Keith (for some reason) counts exactly four piercings on each ear of his, each pair carrying a different set of earrings. The lowest hanging ones on his earlobes glinted silver, and Keith’s stomach dropped.

And then Keith notices the stud screwed through the right side of Lance’s lower lip. The realization vaguely feels like someone punching him in the stomach and then releasing butterflies.

Lance snaps his fingers just a bit away from Keith’s face. “Hello? You said my name.”

Keith winces, feeling his face flood with warmth. “I- yeah, sorry.”

Lance peers at him with eyes the colour of the ocean depths. “You good bro?”

“Yeah, I-” Keith fumbles over his words. He never was the best at talking to people, especially not with someone like Lance. “I like your piercings,” he says rather gruffly.

It wasn’t a lie- Keith is hot with envy- but Keith probably isn’t admitting the full truth, even to himself. (At least he’s self aware?)

“Oh.” The corner of Lance’s mouth curls up. “Cool, me too. You’re here to fix my bike.”

Keith clears his throat, quickly redirecting his mind back into business mode. “That’s right. What’s the issue with it?”

Lance lifts one hand up to scratch at the back of his neck, and Keith’s mind supplies, That’s so hot.

Shut up, Keith thinks in response.

“I kind of got into a crash, like, a week ago?” Lance scrunches his nose and Keith feels short of breath. “I punctured my gas tank, I think. I’m pretty sure.”

“Oh. Were you okay?” Keith asks automatically, glad that he can keep a semblance of politeness while his mind feels like it’s short-circuiting.

“Yeah, I just got a bit scraped up,” Lance says in a casual way that Keith can respect. “I haven’t even ridden my bike again.”

Keith nods. “Okay, we can… head to your bike then.”

They leave the building together and Keith tries not to be hyper-aware of Lance’s proximity to him. He scolds himself and tells the back of his mind that he’s being unprofessional and ridiculous.

He finds Lance’s bike pretty quicky since it’s the only one the garage. It’s sleek and looks pretty new, with a black and blue colour theme.

“Wow,” Keith says, legitimately impressed.

“It’s a Honda CB500,” Lance says with pride thrumming through his voice, as if Keith doesn’t have three motorcycle catalogs sitting on his desk at home as they speak. “It’s the 2017 model, too.”

“Nice,” Keith says.

“Thanks,” Lance says genuinely, and the sideways smile he gives Keith makes Keith’s heart want to jump out of his chest.

“I’m going to take a look at it.” Keith gestures towards the bike and he urges himself to get focused. Repairing motorcycles was something he was familiar with, and he shouldn’t let himself get distracted by some (admittedly cute) guy.

He wheels the motorcycle over to his station and starts to crank it up. He’s vaguely aware of Lance strolling up behind him. Keith forces himself not to glance over, and continues on with his work.

“So… do you have a bike?” Lance asks. Keith pauses for a moment in the middle of taking out the tools he needs from his toolbox.

“I don’t,” Keith answers. He goes on with the work; he doesn’t mind the attention, at least not from Lance, but it’s surprising to him that Lance would say anything. “I’m actually trying to save up for one right now. I’ve been interested in them since I was a kid.” That was the sole reason why Keith didn’t have more piercings or any tattoos right now; his desire to not have to walk to work in Miami’s heat and humidity was greater than his desire for an aesthetic, currently.

“Really?”

“I had, like, a collection of like 50 toy models when I was a kid,” Keith explains. His hands move, almost by instinct, over the different parts of the bike, making sure to handle everything with care.

Lance makes a noise that could be a laugh.

“What?” Keith asks.

“Nothing.” He hears Lance shift behind him. “Just. It’s different from my childhood, I guess. My siblings and I always played those make-believe games.”

Keith hums. By the time he was adopted, Keith’s own brother was already starting college, so he was never given a chance to do anything of that sort.

“Is that why you’re a mechanic?” Lance sounds curious, and Keith, for the life of him, doesn’t know why.

“Kind of.” Keith’s tongue pokes out of the side of his mouth as he concentrates- it’s an involuntary habit he developed, probably after a year of working with Hunk. “My older brother’s also a mechanical engineer and was interested in this stuff… I kind of learned from him, too. He’s getting his PhD this year,” Keith adds necessarily, feeling a warm glow of pride for Shiro.

“Cool, tell him congratulations for me.”

From anyone else, Keith thinks, that would have sounded sarcastic, but somehow Lance makes them seem like the most truthful words ever spoken. It’s an odd trait for someone that has spiked rings stuck in his ears.

“I will.” Then Keith frowns and sets his tools down, turning around on Lance. “Why are you talking to me?”

Lance blinks, clearly offended. “Excuse me?”

“That came out wrong.” Keith resists the urge to massage the bridge of his nose with two fingers. “I mean, you know, customers don’t usually talk to the mechanic while they wait.”

Luckily, Lance doesn’t seem to be angry (Keith usually has no qualms about riling someone up, but it seems unfair to do it so someone as uniquely nice as Lance). He reaches up and tugs at a stray piece of hair that peeks out from the front of his black beanie. Keith’s stomach does a flip.

“I don’t know,” he says, and he almost sounds sheepish. “I was just. Making conversation.”

“Oh.” Keith feels nonplussed. “Well, you can get coffee and lemonade in the lounge. And like, cookies.”

They stare at each other for a moment, and Keith is sure that neither of them have any clue what exactly is going on right now.

“I’ll leave you to it, then.” Lance holds two fingers up like a salute, and then contorts his face into a look of half-embarrassment, half-confusion. He walks off, leaving Keith also half-embarrassed, half-confused.

With his distraction gone, Keith is able to throw himself fully into his work. He works swiftly but meticulously, and by the time he looks up and realizes that an hour has passed since the manager spoke to him, the gas tank is already fixed.

He sends a last, longing look towards the bike and then turns around and makes his way towards the lounge. His fingers are sticky with drying grease and dust, so he drags his fingers over the denim of his jeans, thankful that they’re black and will, for the most part, cover up the multiple stains he gets during the work day.

He actually breathes a sigh of relief as the air-conditioned air hits his skin, feeling the sweat on his skin cool instantly. The fans installed in the garage are literally never that useful during the peak of summer.

“Lance?” he asks, searching with his eyes for that friendly smirk. Keith hopes that he didn’t grow impatient and leave, or they would have to store the bike for him and it would be another hassle.

“I’m here!” says Lance’s voice, and he comes in through the door from the lobby. “I was having a chat with our lovely receptionist.”

Keith finds it a bit hard to swallow. “Right. I’m done with your bike.”

“Sweet.” Lance looks pleased, so that’s a bonus. “She’s all fixed up?”

“Good as new. They’re taking her to the front right now.” Keith tries for a smile, but he’s realizing that Lance will now leave forever, and for some absurd reason, that’s making him feel down.

“I can’t wait to ride her again,” Lance says mournfully. “It’s been a whole week.”

“I can see you’re attached to her,” Keith says, half-jokingly.

Lance smiles. “I named her Hermosa.”

“Nice,” Keith says, for lack of anything better to say.

“You know,” Lance says after a beat, lowering his ocean-blue gaze to meet Keith’s eyes. “If you’d be interested, I wouldn’t mind taking you on a ride one day.”

Keith’s brain isn’t able to comprehend Lance’s words. “Wait, what?”

Lance takes a step forwards, and the smile on his face transforms into (if Keith isn’t horribly, horribly mistaken) something that he could almost call flirtatious. “I mean, don’t think I didn’t notice that you’ve been flustered around me.”

Is Lance hitting on him? Is that what this is? There isn’t a possible way that Lance can actually be interested in Keith. Keith isn’t exactly the most appealing person in the world, as shown by his stained clothes and slightly matted hair and generally closed off personality. “I- wait, just- what?”

The confident looks falls off Lance’s face faster than Keith can blink. “Please tell me I’m reading that correctly. Holy shit, this is really fucking awkward if I’m not.”

Keith’s mind moves in fast forward, his thought process zipping forward to catch up with the situation that surrounds him. “No!” he splutters, taking a half-step forward. “No, I- I’m pretty sure you’re reading this exactly correctly.”

Lance’s face lights up, which makes Keith’s heart feel like it’s running a sprint in his chest. “Oh, really? I mean-” He clears his throat. “Yeah. Of course. I saw that.”

“I just didn’t assume that you would…” Keith’s voice is rather flimsy and he makes a vague gesture in an attempt to get his point across.

“Think I liked guys?” Lance grins, a whole wide smile with his white teeth showing, and his eyes crinkle up with something like amusement. He points to something on his vest and Keith follows the direction to a pin with the bisexual pride colours, resting over Lance’s heart next to a pin of the Cuban flag.

“Oh,” Keith says faintly. “Obviously I didn’t notice.”

Lance lets out a laugh that’s half a snort, half a giggle. Keith finds that it does inexplicable things to his heart. “Clearly.” His expression, looking nearly shy, and the change in demeanor gives Keith whiplash. “Do you think… maybe we could meet up something? To be clear, go out sometime.” He grins again and gives Keith a small wink of jest.

“Uh.” Keith coughs and curses himself for being so stilted. “Yeah. That’d be great.”

“Awesome.” Lance starts to speak so fast that Keith can barely catch what he’s saying. “I know this amazing Cuban bakery that we can go to. Actually, it’s owned by my aunt so I’m biased, but I promise you that the pastelitos de guayaba there are to die for. I’ll ride you there.” He whips out a Sharpie from his jeans pocket and grabs Keith’s hand, pulling him forward to scribble down a number on his skin. “Don’t forget to save the number before it rubs off.”

“I will,” Keith promises, feeling his cheeks warm up. It’s a good feeling, Keith decides.

“Cool.” Lance’s eyes are bright and Keith feels a faint rush in his chest and something like butterflies hatching in his stomach. “I gotta go pick up my bike, but I guess… I’ll see you around.”

“For sure,” Keith answers, and he tries to press down the oddly nice nervousness that bubbles in his stomach.

Lance squeezes Keith’s hand for a brief moment and then starts to walk away. Before he completely turns away, he looks back and Keith and gives him an impish grin and states, “I hope you plan on wearing cleaner clothes when we next meet.”

Keith glances down at his own grease-spotted shirt and looks back up at Lance, then rolls his eyes. “Yes, Lance, I do.”

Lance laughs, and to Keith it sounds like sunshine. “See you around, Mullet,” he says, and Keith is sure that he imagines the fondness that lies over the teasing nickname. Keith touches his own hair in mock offense and Lance shoots him a last smile before exiting the lounge.

Keith turns back to the garage and resists the urge to sigh like a lovestruck middle-schooler. Before he steps outside, he makes a mental reminder to save the number on his arm in his phone when he gets home, and when that thought brings a fluttery feeling to his stomach, Keith welcomes it.

#mmmm im so insecure about this but whatever here is the post!#voltron #voltron legendary defender #vld #klance #keith #lance #safeklance #mine #safekeith #safelance #my writing

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northsyria04-blog · 5 years

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A Great Food Sweatshirt, Famous Barbecue Sauce, and More Things to Buy This Week

This post originally appeared on March 19, 2019, in Add to Cart — the weekly newsletter for people who love shopping (almost) as much as they love eating. Subscribe now.

On Saturday night, on my way home from a delightful party with rather undelightful wine, I found myself scrolling through Instagram, inspired to bring better wine into my life. I found an online seller called Primal; it looked nice and had a decent number of followers, one of whom, Instagram kindly informed me, is a coworker. I managed to order two bottles of wine before my Lyft pulled to a stop — but only with a bunch of fumbling, multiple browser windows, and a glance at my physical credit card.

We’ve all gotten used to bumpy online checkout processes. But today, in what qualifies as major shopping news — and a reminder that crappy online experiences don’t have to be so crappy — Facebook announced you can now buy things directly on Instagram. Instead of being redirected to a browser window when you tap on a product, you’ll see a big blue button. Tap “Checkout on Instagram”; input your email, shipping details, and payment information; and voila, you’ve placed your order without ever leaving Instagram.

It seems like a feature that should’ve existed years ago. For many people, Instagram functions like a more engaging Google, where search results come with better photos and validation from friends (and recommendations creepily informed by what you’ve been Googling). And just as I’m more likely to pick a brunch place based on what my coworkers are tagging rather than on random searching, I’m more likely to buy things based on what my friends are liking (or based on what looks particularly enticing on my “Explore” tab — the ultimate window shopping).

Which makes seamless shopping via Instagram a welcome, if not monumental, change. The capability is currently limited to certain fashion and beauty brands, like Nike, Warby Parker, H&M, and Oscar de la Renta (please tell me who is buying Oscar de la Renta via Instagram). But if Instagram expands it, which seems inevitable, friction-free, impulse-friendly wine shopping could be in our futures.

Things to buy

This perfect Goldie sweatshirt shouts out the Philly falafel shop with vintage college vibes.

Despite recently receiving a very legit food processor as a wedding gift, I find myself still turning to the Ninja Food Chopper Express Chop, which gets the job done as well but is vastly easier to clean, store (in tiny city kitchen cabinets!), and generally manhandle.

If you, like me, spent the weekend watching Queer Eye and sobbing softly into a throw blanket over the sheer goodness of humanity, you might also be interested to know that Jones Bar-B-Q sauce, created by the “heroes” of Episode 3, the Jones sisters, is now available online. “As of yesterday morning, we sold 11,000 bottles. We averaged 1.7 bottles per minute this weekend,” the newly famous biz shared with fans.

A very underrated cooking tool: really comfortable socks. For a chef-approved pair, splurge on Cook Life socks by True Cooks.

Things to know

New York’s just-unveiled Hudson Yards, an embarrassing modern temple to luxury and inaccessibility, is really just a seven-story mall and as such has an extremely extensive food court. Eater NY has an exhaustive rundown (complete with a liveblog and an Instagram adventure) of the good, the bad, and the absurd of the dining options.

Pyrex is a mainstay in millions of American kitchens, including my own, and yet I somehow missed the controversy over exploding Pyrex glass. The tl;dr: It’s probably still fine to use, but maybe be careful?

Interested in another semi-expensive kitchen appliance that you’ll get approximately four uses out of before it starts gathering dust? This just in, from the Wall Street Journal: “White Russian in a Pod? Budweiser Maker Pushes K-Cup Machine for Cocktails.” FWIW, previous versions of this have all been disasters.

Christmas came late this year with the March arrival of Deadspin’s annual Hater’s Guide to the Williams-Sonoma Catalog. With lines like “This toffee tin may as well read HEY, MARY LOUISE! EAT SHIT!” it was well worth the wait.

Hudson Yards in NYC

Alex Staniloff

Add to Cart

Shopping intel and product picks for food lovers

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Vox Media has affiliate partnerships. These do not influence editorial content, though Vox Media may earn commissions for products purchased via affiliate links. For more information, see our ethics policy.

Source: https://www.eater.com/2019/3/20/18273297/jones-bbq-sauce-goldie-sweatshirt-merch-buy-shopping-food

#read more #see more #check it out #interesting #learn more

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lulucarrington · 7 years

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The Black Out Job

Chapter 1, Jobs, Jobs, Jobs

Chapter 2: HERE

There are times, and places, beyond our knowing. One such place, Hybras, was a place of magic and wonder. At least, to those who did not live there. The city lived in two- a world like ours, of 9-5 human bustle and activity, and a world filled with fae and elementals, and humans who had the sight. Humans are distrustful at the best of times, so the two sides have always stood apart, but with the rise of new leaders and politicians, the divide is sharper than ever, and consequences begin to pile up on both sides. Humans driven into stupid animal fear, and the Folk, as the media termed them, were driven into the shadows, living on the fringe, and in resentful silence.

* * *

Taekwoon sat down heavily on his friend Hakyeon’s couch and sighed. It had happened again. He’d lost another job. He’d been so good- he’d minded his own business, been friendly enough, and always done all the work assigned to him. He’d agreed to lunch with some coworkers, and they’d walked past the pet store. Until he passed, the animals had been playful and sweet; but his presence had made them all sit or stand at attention, eyes on him, before the howling and screaming had begun. The news that day had played over the office, letting them know the signs of the Folk, including ones like Taekwoon.

He’d been fired for ‘showing up late too often’ by 5pm.

He wasn’t even going to fight this one. He was done with it all.

“Rough one?” Hakyeon’s voice floated in from his room.

“Worse. I got fired again,” “How’d it happen this time?”

“The pet place on 191st.” Taekwoon rolled onto his stomach and buried his face in a couch cushion. He was sure his landlord would want him out after this, too. He hadn’t even taken anything out of his storage locker this time, so at least he was already packed.

“I hate pet stores.” Hakyeon’s voice let Taekwoon know his friend had returned. “I don’t know why you bother trying to fit in anymore. Things are getting worse everywhere, honestly. I mean, look at the city- east and west are now an absolute divide in species. Stay here on this side with me, stop trying to fit in with the humans.”

“I AM a human.”

“True, but one who is capable of interspecies communication, and mastery of beasts, and that makes the rest of them nervous.” Hakyeon sat down on a sliver of couch and put a soft hand on Taekwoon’s shoulder. “I could get you a job with my people. I’m sure Ravi would love to have you in the crew. And you won’t even have to move!”

“I’m sure my boss already called my landlord about me.” Taekwoon moaned. “I’ll be out by the end of the week!”

“Lee Jaehwan owns the club under your building, not just the apartments, you know.”

“So?”

“So, if he’s got real estate in the middle of Hybras West that caters to the Folk, I doubt your dumb boss is going to bother him, and even if he does, why would a man with a Folk-friendly club not rent to Folk too?” Leo nodded, but privately stuck to his original opinion. Hakyeon squeezed his shoulder gently and got up. “Now, I’m making myself some dinner. Do you want to stay, or is it still time for you to moan all the way home?”

“Can I stay? I don’t think being alone right now is a good idea.” “And you’re scared of Jaehwan talking to you.” Maybe Taekwoon would go home, if Hakyeon was going to insist on acting like this instead of joining Taekwoon’s pity party.

“I don’t even want to talk to you right now.” Taekwoon sniped, still face-down in the cushion.

“If you’re going to be this broody, at least make yourself useful and go sit on some eggs.” Hakyeon’s voice got fainter, and Taekwoon tried to stifle his laugh. Hakyeon really was good at ruining a good sulk. “Now, I’m just heating up leftovers, so don’t expect anything fancy.”

Taekwoon never minded the state of the food, as long as he got to eat it, he would be fine. He sat and listened to Hakyeon chatter on about a new crush of his- name currently redacted- and how Ravi was thinking of expanding the Fae exports (mostly drugs, various potions, elixirs, and charmed items) to include things Extrasensory Humans, like Taekwoon, could use. He let all the information wash over him, concentrating more on the taste of the dumplings. Hakyeon probably knew he did it, but it was a routine of theirs, so he’d let it be.

“Ravi is looking for an Omnilingual, if you’re interested?” The question shook Taekwoon from a fantasy of never-ending dumplings.

“What?” “My boss, Ravi. He needs an Omnilingual. And since your calendar is free… Do you want to join us?”

“You know I don’t want to do that.” Taekwoon sighed. They’d had this fight one hundred times. Hakyeon would suggest working with other… Folk. Other people like himself and Taekwoon. Then Taekwoon would reply he didn’t want to be a criminal. Hakyeon would insist it was legit. Taekwoon would stare him down. Hakyeon would pout. Taekwoon would not get dessert.

“I know. Is it because you think we’re all criminals, or because you don’t want to admit you’re like me?” Taekwoon’s argument was stopped cold.

“What?” “You sound like your parents- all Folk are criminals, I don’t want to associate with the Folk publicly, I refuse to change my views.” Hakyeon mimicked.

“No, it’s not-“ “Look, I’m actually getting sick of this. I know you still want to be accepted by normal humans, but you just aren’t one. And if I keep getting this attitude from you, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.” Hakyeon’s normally cheerful expression was icy. “It’s like skin colour- we can’t change it, but we can stop being dicks about it.” He held Taekwoon’s gaze for an uncomfortable minute. “Now, I’m saying it one last time: Ravi needs an Omnilingual. The pay will be a lump sum of seven thousand dollars. Paid half on the first day, half on the last. It’s legal- he wants to make a deal with some elves. Metalwork exports, if I remember correctly. The job is yours if you want it. Seven thousand dollars. I’ll give you two days to think about it.”

Leo had agreed to think about it, and eventually Hakyeon had talked him into facing Jaehwan and sent him home with extra dessert. Now he stood in his kitchen, dessert still in his hand, staring at his phone. He knew putting off calling Jaehwan would just make it worse, in the end. That thought didn’t make it any easier for him, though. Eventually he sighed, and put the dessert in the fridge. He was going to go down to the shelter first, and then call Jaehwan in the morning and get it over with. It didn’t take long for him to get ready and begin the short trip to his favourite place. The shelter was friendly to him, the discovery of his skills made him an asset as a volunteer, not an object of fear there. It also meant he could pet as many dogs and as he wanted without getting looks from others. He had never felt more at home anywhere else.

“Taekwoonie!” A familiar chirp interrupted him on the third floor. Jaehwan, wearing what Taekwoon guessed was a shirt that had undergone the world’s most invasive threadectomy. Or some netting-turned-lingerie from Victoria Secret’s “Fishing for Dicks” nautical-themed line. It was hard to tell with Jaehwan sometimes.

“Hello,” Taekwoon smiled, allowing Jaehwan to join him on the stairs.

“You look tense. Is everything okay, Woonie?” Taekwoon didn’t particularly like the nickname, but somehow he’d never gotten around to telling Jaehwan that.

“Um… I wanted to talk to you, actually.”

“Did something happen? Are you okay?” Jaehwan had a way of making Taekwoon feel warm that he couldn’t figure out. Moments ago he’d been terrified of seeing the man, but now, with Jaehwan’s hand on his arm, he felt silly. He knew he couldn’t be scared of Jaehwan- the man was too pleasant to be terrible. He wouldn’t harm Taekwoon.

“I… Lost my job. I might not be able to make rent on time this month.”

“Oh, Taekwoon, that’s fine. You’ve been a good tenant so far, I don’t mind if you-“

“I… Don’t know how long it could take me to get another one.”

“Sweetie-“

“I got… I’m a… I’m of the Folk and I got found out. My boss will probably call you and tell you. And I might not have that job for a long time, if he calls anyone else.” The words tumbled out, leaving Taekwoon feeling exposed and scared, but the warmth of Jaehwan’s hand cut through it like a watery sun through the rain clouds. Jaehwan was a nice man, the warmth reminded him. He wouldn’t- he COULDN’T be like the others.

Jaehwan’s expression rippled with surprise, then suddenly Taekwoon was enveloped in a warm embrace. The warmth of his hand was nothing compared to the calm the brief hug Jaehwan bestowed on him. Taekwoon felt as if he’d been emptied of all his fear and was being filled with champagne. Bubbly warmth and giddiness buzzed right up his spine to his hair, bypassing his brain and spreading through every cell as Jaehwan stepped back and grinned.

“You take all the time you need, don’t worry about it for a second. And, if your boss calls, I’ll just hang up on him.”

“You don’t-“

“Us folk have to stick together.” Jaehwan’s grin grew by several teeth. “And if you need help looking for work, just let me know. I always know a guy who knows a guy.” It must have been the giddiness at work, Taekwoon thought later, as he hugged Jaehwan and gave him cheerful and sincere thanks for his understanding, and the offer. Jaehwan, looking a little confused as well, waved Taekwoon off, saying he would always be in the club if Taekwoon needed to find him.

Taekwoon nearly ran all the way to the shelter, where he smiled at everyone widely, before settling in to bathe some of the dogs. The odd warmth Jaehwan had inspired stuck around, and it had Taekwoon thinking as he scrubbed and brushed a very affectionate puppy’s fur. He knew Hakyeon’s offer was solid- and with seven thousand dollars he could shop around for more work with a bit of a safety net- and whatever he ended up not using could go to the shelter! They always needed donations. As he unsuccessfully tried to wrangle the puppy into a position to wash its back legs, he realised that it hadn’t even entered his mind to turn down the offer. Everything had been such a whirlwind, he hadn’t had time to settle on a feeling, and now that he had to land somewhere, he felt like a snow globe after a massive shake. He wanted to claim he was sad or angry, but both Hakyeon’s offer and Jaehwan’s little confession had sapped that. Hakyeon was nicer to him that he deserved, sometimes. And Jaehwan… The man so boldly admitted he was of the Folk too. With a smile and pride, he’d just accepted Taekwoon’s admission. That was a heady feeling that was hard to put a dent in.

A small, niggling part of him still craved approval from his family- still screamed that if only he tried hard enough he could be like them. It was screaming quieter and quieter now, with Hakyeon’s observations still fresh in his mind. He wasn’t welcome with his family much, but the shelter, and Hakyeon, and now Jaehwan… They all accepted him just fine. Maybe, if he took the work for Ravi, he’d look into what Jaehwan had in mind, and just disappear into this side of the city. He had occasional lunches with his fellow shelter volunteers, and he could always take up his favourite hobby (pretending tonight would be the night he’d finally talk to the tall, exquisite blonde man he often passed in the street and in the corner store some nights. The one who always smiled at him) full-time.

“Stop squirming, little missy,” He paused his thoughts to softly scold his squirming bath buddy. “I just want to clean your feet.” She turned and stared at him, and Taekwoon realised he must have surprised her. A lot of animals were surprised when a human talked to them for the first time. “Yes you,” he tickled her ears a little. “I just need to do your feet and you can go back to the play area.” Obedient instantly at the mention of the play area, the little dog allowed him to finish washing her, then shift her to another volunteer.

“You’re in a good mood today,” he realised the other volunteer was Arzu, one of the elves. Generally, she was only here during the day- elves preferring to be out at night and indoors during the sunny hours.

“I lost my job, but I didn’t get evicted.” He realised too late how strange it sounded.

“I know that feeling.” She nodded. “Any plans yet?”

“My friend has a job I’m considering. I’ll even have enough left over to give to the shelter!”

“What, not going to buy a hundred cakes first?” She teased. Taekwoon’s cheeks burned a little as he turned to accept his next puppy. “And don’t look sour- I remember watching you at lunch last week. I’ve never seen anyone eat like that. I was impressed.” She smiled, revealing her unusually long teeth. Taekwoon liked her smile- elves looked almost cat-like, with their long teeth, slit pupils, and pointed ears- and that set him at ease compared to other humanoids. They were cat-like in other ways too- people thought of them as graceful, serene, and elegant creatures despite the thousands of videos of them doing ridiculous things. He’d seen Arzu get her foot stuck in a bucket, swear a blue streak across the whole compound, then snobbishly insist everyone had hallucinated it once she was freed. Definitely catlike, and very easy to get along with.

“I like cake.” He defended weakly.

“I know.”

* * *

Ravi was seated in his usual back room angrily tapping various words into a translator that, in his opinion, only translated things into bullshit. He was struggling with this- the deal with the elves for metalworks like cauldrons and their charmable jewellery was going to make it so much easier to deal with the other wizards. But this damn contract… He could read elvish well enough to order food or cast a hex, but he was nowhere near the level he needed to figure out if there were any loopholes or sub-clauses snuck in.

“Hey boss!” The yell both startled Ravi, and let him know his Fae friend N was in an unusually chipper state. “Guess what I’ve got?” N threw himself into a chair near Ravi and grinned. Ravi was never sure about that grin, it was more of a predatory teeth-baring than a grin. It usually heralded an adventure, though, so Ravi nodded at N as he tapped away. “I found us a translator.”

“Really, who? I thought your last contact was-“

“Oh, not her. A friend of mine. He’s recently been outed, needs some money and a nice place indoors to sit for a while.”

“He’s a human? What languages did he study?” Ravi paused in his tapping to watch N.

“He’s an Omnilingual, not a translator. I’ve even seen him talk to animals like dogs, so I will personally vouch for him.”

“On your wings?” Fae had wings, though Ravi had rarely seen them, and swearing on them was serious business.

“On my mother’s wings.” N put a hand on his chest. “He’s a nice kid too. He’s had a rough go of it, but I know he’ll take the offer I made for you. I’ll bring him in once I get a formal yes out of him.” Ravi nodded at this. N wasn’t one to fuss around when business was running. Ravi admired that- he found himself staying up late and wanting to hex his more irritating coworkers when business took off. While N seemed to jump right in and swim through everything without a care.

“Good. That cuts out one worry of mine. The other though- I need a crew for the retrieval you suggested. I still need an animal specialist, a siren, and Hongbin if I can wrangle him out of his latest psychic drama.”

“Well, my friend might do that if you mention the animals… After we do this job first, though. He’s skittish about the whole thing. But if he likes us, he’ll be in. And, based on what he tells me, he’s seen Hyuk around town, so I’m sure he’d stay just to moon over Hyuk forever…” N’s laughter was full of fondness for this friend, Ravi noted. That was interesting, as N rarely mentioned having a personal life, let alone any of the persons in it. “The siren though- aren’t we in a club full of them?”

“Would you trust any of them to work with us on something this delicate?” “Well, Xiumin is good for-“

“Without seducing anyone and without taking off his shirt at any point?” Ravi peered over his glasses a N.

“In Xiumin’s defense, he pulls off Baekhyun’s shirt more than his own these days.” N pointed out.

“Not exactly a point in his favour,” Ravi rolled his eyes. “I’ll just ask Ken. Sometimes I feel like he knows everyone in this city, so he’ll be able to find me someone.” Ravi pushed his glasses up his face and rubbed his eyes.

“Look, until my friend agrees, we’re sitting on this, so just pack up and go home. You’ll have a nice day off, maybe you’ll finally call Ken daddy, and then we’ll pull a heist just like in the movies.”

“I do not want to call Ken daddy.”

“Or mommy. I don’t know what you two skeezes are into.” N grinned again, and stood. “Where’s Hyuk? Normally he’s got something rude to add by now.”

“I had to send him after someone. They didn’t want to pay up, so right now he’s probably explaining very nicely to them that they’re paying up in twenty-four hours, or he breaks their other arm too.”

“Well, I do not envy them.” N started towards the door. “Jokes aside, please at least take the night off. You look like you’re about to drop.”

Ravi waved him off, but as he stood to stretch, he realised he felt exhausted. Checking his watch, he’d been working for the last 5 hours without stopping. It was nearly 1am, and he hadn’t realised it. He gathered up his things and crammed them into his bag, and with a last glance around, he started out into the hallway. It didn’t take him long to attract Ken, who always seemed to know when Ravi surfaced from the back Ravi!” Ken appeared from the sea of moving bodies. “You finally up for a drink with me?”

“It’s late, Jaehwan,” Ravi scolded Ken, using his real name as emphasis, but made no move to stop the other man’s approach. “I do have a job, you know. I don’t party all night like you.”

“But you know you want to.” Jaehwan said, and shimmied a little in emphasis.

“You know I’d love to dress like a seaside hooker and shake it with the rest of the girls, but I don’t have your flair. Or Xiumin’s shirt allergy.”

“It’s a tragedy,” Jaehwan pouted solemnly. “The poor boy just can’t handle his shirts.”

“Neither can you by the look of this.” Ravi plucked at the mesh on Ken’s chest, a little thrill of heat racing up his arm when his finger brushed Jaehwan’s collarbone. “It must be contagious.”

“Here’s hoping it’s catching. I’d love to see what that tattoo of yours says.” Jaehwan pressed suggestively against Ravi for a moment, before slipping off into the crowd. Ravi wanted to make a clever comment, or say something back, but the heat burning in him made it come out as an awkward grunt.

His thoughts of Jaehwan were cut short by his phone buzzing in his pocket. He strode out of the club and answered it. “Ravi speaking.”

“It’s me. Hyuk. I got the artifact, what do you want me to do with it?”

“Bring it to my place. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

“Will do.” He wasn’t much one to chat today, that boy, Ravi thought as he pocketed his phone. That meant Hyuk had probably encountered his family again. As an elemental, Hyuk was sought after by many people- they were used for industrial work of all kinds, magic, even entertainment- but like many of his kind, he was not often paid well for it, and abused without a second thought. He’d followed in the footsteps of his family, and ended up as a fighter in some less respectable parts of the circuits. He was a fire elemental, and therefore prized even above his siblings, so when Ravi first met him, he had actually been chained with water cuffs and locked up when he wasn’t fighting. Ravi had freed him on a whim, and accidentally earned himself a constant companion. This was somehow viewed as a betrayal of Family Tradition, and Hyuk had several encounters with his siblings over the years that had led to bloodshed and possibly death. Ravi hadn’t asked, and he knew Hyuk would likely not elaborate if confronted. Despite his past (of which Ravi admittedly knew little), Hyuk maintained an easygoing demeanour, except when members of his family popped up. Then he was sullen for days, and even seeing the serious dark-haired man from the corner store would not cheer him up.

His thoughts still full of his giant protector, Ravi let himself into his apartment. He could hear his dog’s little paws scrabbling across the floor as he kicked his shoes off and abandoned his bag next to the couch. His dog, Butt, came charging into the room and made a beeline for his shins, yapping the whole way. It cheered Ravi immensely, and the weight of the contract seemed to lift. He scooped Butt up under one arm and kissed the top of his head.

“Daddy missed you.” He cooed. “Yes, I did.” Butt wiggled happily, and Ravi slumped down on the couch, still muttering to Butt. “Daddy’s finally got the gems he needs for his big heist. Aren’t you proud of me?”

Any response Butt might have had was cut short by the sound of a key in the lock.

“Wonsik?” Only Hyuk knew his actual name.

“Over here.” He let Butt down on the floor, and the little dog took off, happily cannoning into Hyuk’s shins.

“Butt!” Hyuk’s child-like glee nearly matched Butt’s enthusiasm. “How are you?”

“He’s probably mad I didn’t get home earlier.” Ravi answered. “But good news, N found us a translator.”

“I thought Hwasa was out of town with her wife?” Hyuk came into Ravi’s line of vision.

“She is. Apparently N has a friend who’s an Omnilingual- says he can even talk to animals.” Ravi didn’t bother sitting up, only shifting his feet as Hyuk sat down at the other end of the couch. “He’s going to find out from his friend in the next day or two what the guy thinks of the job.”

“Good.” Hyuk nodded seriously, even as his fingers twirled over Butt, creating a small wispy tendril of smoke where Butt’s tail should be. Butt took off chasing it in a wide circle while Hyuk smiled. “I got the gems.” He stuck a hand into his pockets, and withdrew a velvet sack. “What do we need them for anyway?” “If we want to get into… Into the compound, I need to do some spell work, and the gems are involved. Mostly so I don’t have to use you as a makeshift amplifier again. I don’t think either of us enjoyed that much.”

“No, we did not.” Hyuk shook his head vigorously.

“Speaking of enjoying things- where’s the static prince Hyuk gone? You haven’t zapped a single person today. Even Ken has noticed.”

“I hadn’t realised it was that obvious.”

“What’s up? Was it your family again?”

“No. I just… You’ll think I’m silly.” Hyuk was keeping his eyes firmly on the dog, resolutely avoiding Ravi’s gaze.

“I once watched you shuffle across a professional setting in your socks so you could zap Hongbin while he was flirting with a girl. And you did that because he didn’t think your singing the food song was a masterpiece. There is not ‘too silly’ with us.”

“Well, you know the guy from the corner store? The really serious and mysterious one? I want to talk to him, but I don’t know what to do! It’s driving me crazy!”

“Dress up like a dessert? I remember his basket had 6 cakes in it when you pointed him out to me.” That got a laugh out of Hyuk.

“What I mean is, he looks human- what if he’s not one of us?” “I look human. In fact, I am one.” Ravi pointed out. “And there’s tons of humans with extra talents. He clearly lives around here, and it’s a high-Folk area. That means he’s probably at least friendly to the Folk.”

“But still…”

“Just march up to him and ask him out. Worst happens, he says no, then you can start getting over him. Best case, I hope I’m the best man at your wedding.” “So… Just march up and ask him out?” “It’s not that hard.”

“Just like you and Ken?”

Ravi jolted upright and stared at Hyuk. “That’s completely different!” Shame flushed his cheeks red.

“How?”

“I work with Ken, for starters.” He defended, though Hyuk’s expression said he wasn’t buying it. “And he’s… Ken! He flirts with the world! How am I supposed to know if he’s flirting with me or flirting with me?”

“Just march up and ask him?” Hyuk’s expression was innocent as he parroted Ravi’s advice back at him.

“I am going to bed.” Ravi ignored Hyuk’s snort. “I will see you in the morning.”

#vixx fanfic #Fantasy AU #Leverage/Heist AU #Organized Crime AU #Pairings:#Ravi - Ken #Leo - Hyuk #Hongbin - N

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strawberryspeachy · 6 years

Text

Disclaimer: I’m open to any criticism telling me I’m shit person/friend cause tbh I don’t even know rn

So my best friend of 19 years has a psychotic narcissistic mother who I’ve watched abuse her for years and her dads so distant and apathetic about anything that goes on in the household that it seems he’d say say anything to be able to leave a conversation faster

I wanted to do a teaching in English in Japan program because I want an adventure. I want change. I can’t get a job. And I’ve thought about it being a fun thing to do for years now. But the programs I could find were year long contracts and had bad reviews depending on the schools you taught at. I figured eh...I could try it out and see how it goes. But what would be better is if I could go with my friend. We could be each other’s support and I wouldn’t be alone in Japan and she’s been the only person the past 8 months making me not feel miserable all the time.

She also had the same issues I did and wanted to make connections but her family told her she couldn’t be trusted to leave the area and told her no. (Before I talked about doing it as well)

I’m pretty close to her family and asked her if they’d agree if I was also going since they wouldn’t have to worry about her then. And she said maybe but wasn’t up to actually looking for teaching positions.

So l looked and I found a few and she told me to keep them secret.

The first one I applied to - the recruiter tried to push me through the process really fast while ignoring my friend when I brought up my friend was also interested in the program. They wouldn’t pay for your airfare and they made me go buy professional pics for my visa and get my transcript expediated over. And just generally had really bad reviews. Without even giving thought to my friend they rejected her so I didn’t pay for my background check - they wanted me to fucking pay for it which also. I didn’t like.

It was crappy she got rejected cause I wanted to go but wanted to go together and figured it was fine we can find a better program. And we did.

I applied to the programs that Thursday night and my friend said she’d get it done. She said it again and again for almost a week until I offered to just write her cover letter for her since she felt in a slump and she’s been fighting her depression and having problems coping and such.

Because she took so long to turn in her application we weren’t able to make the sooner group interview (I also told them if we both got it we’d be carpooling)

She said over and over again jokes that I can’t die till we get to japan cause her family wouldn’t let her go without me. And we talked about it on the “if we both get it terms”

Before our interview she told her dad and he agreed that she could go

Well I got rejected (tbh unfairly because she messed up as much as I did and I have more qualifications for both the teaching and business aspect of the job than she does) and was upset and without skipping a beat my friend starts going “if I get accepted I’m going to...”

It made me upset that I never planned to go without her but she now that her dad said he was ok with it planned to go without me. And I tried to just be happy for her. But I legit felt sick and had nightmares all weekend.

So I asked on Monday about us trying again later on and that she could passify her family by getting one for the part time jobs they kept asking her to tell in the area and I could be her reference if she put down my grandfathers produce stand. And that because I had to push her through the process and write her cover letter I don’t just feel like I got rejected by the job but that I instead went in the opposite direction by doing s bunch of work to send my friend to the opposite side of the world.

She didn’t respond. She just changed the subject and ultimately walked away. She said she’d think about it. She didn’t she immediately accepted the offer and had ignored me since.

Well her dad told her mom about and so I got a call frm her sister who I’m also close with. I told her about our initial plan but that I got rejected and she said that if I hadn’t been her and her other sister would be cool with it. But since it’s not the case they’re not.

Now she’s my best friend so I haven’t questioned what happened with her when she moved to another state and got depressed and realized she didn’t like what she was studying and moved back. It made sense to me. And I know her family well enough to know that they overreact to a lot of things.

My friend told me that last summer she got too depressed to continue with her research and decided to drop out but when she brought that up her family forbid her from doing so and told her to suck it up and finish. Then screamed at her for months for being awful and everything. Told her she was worthless without getting her drs degree and brought her home to keep an eye on her.

Her family has told me bits and pieces but they’ve never explained what happened beyond saying “she’s irresponsible and spoiled” and getting mad about her not just getting over her depression. So I’ve sided with my friend on - they’re not reacting to this correctly.

I did however know that my friend took many months to ask her dad - the only person who had enough connections to get her what she wanted for help - despite telling me monthly that she was gonna talk to him

Now her family tells me.

- she stopped showing up to work without telling her bosses and coworkers

- she actively cut off all her friends in that state

- she asked for money for bills but wouldn’t tell them what the bills were for

- when they asked what the bills were for she stopped responding to them

- they’re paying her debts for her but she’s been refusing to set up payment plans for them

- she didn’t send the apology letter to her bosses after her mom wrote it for her which is why she ended up leaving on bad terms

(the way she told me I thought she was just going to drop out and I told her with all the work she’s put in those three years would still look good on her resume and never understood why she kept saying she doesn’t have references since she hid these facts from me)

So even though I thought she was being upfront with me. She wasn’t. She got depressed and she just shut down. I didn’t expect that. I’ve never neglected my active responsibilities no matter how miserable I am. I don’t do them well but I don’t just stop everything and crawl into my room and ignore the rest of the world. She didn’t even tell me - and I’m he only personshe kept in contact with - that she had stopped going to work and that she refused to talk to anyone. I thought she FELT isolated. I don’t know she isolated herself.

She talks about wanting to die but only when she’s depressed. I mean being I legit wanna die whether things are going my way or not, I wouldn’t want my friend stopping me if the opportunity arose for me to die.

But my friend doesn’t. She only feels that way when she’s depressed. And every time she starts to feel better she tells me that “she doesn’t even need to take her meds that often”

She’s been telling me that she thinks she’s an extrovert but that her mom made her into an introvert - which is true - she was very friendly in elementary school.

But the truth is even now 8 months later she can’t tolerate hanging out more than a few hours. She stops talking and goes on her phone. She never wants to go anywhere and meet new people.

And after seeing how when I’ve shared my first news of - something you’re doing hurts my feelings - that insted of responding to me she literally walked away.

Like honestly I do fee selfish in that I wanted to go together and I wasn’t gonna go without her and while applying I thought it was viseversa and I don’t wanna lose my best friend to the other side of the planet because I feel like I had half the work for her. And she also plans to never come back.

But also now that her family has told me more about how bad she got in grad school and the fact that she knew it was bad enough that she never told me.

I can’t help but also agree with her family that. Nah. She really shouldn’t go so far away by herself. when she’s not depressed she’s not suicidal and she’s already told me that she doesn’t plan to take her meds while in Japan.

But this conclusion would work out in my favor so it does make me feel like shitty friend. On the other hand. She’s not a social person. She won’t go meet new people and when she does go out for long times - she recouperates by isolating herself for like 5 days. This job requires you to be peppy and upbeat and constantly talking to many people every day for like 10 hours. Then go home and do paper work. It’s a year contract.

She wants connections out of this.

We were late to our interview and she physically couldn’t run there

She’s had to be exercising back and forth to work everyday to talk to many people in a good mood for an entire year or else she would ruin the connections there as well.

Tbh after hearing that she just stopped showing up for work and didn’t explain to any of her superiors — new information - I’m not even sure that me having gone with her and pushing her would have helped.

There’s been many times in the past few months that she tells me I can force her out of her room to go somewhere but when I try she tells me she’s too sick

And I’m not gonna fight with my friend that she’s not sick so she needs to get up and come. No I just go aw that sucks, how about tomorrow instead.

So like even if we lived together - which we wouldn’t. - and she started doing that there there’s nothing I could really do about.

I can make things sounds exciting to her. I can be her buffer. I can talk to people for her. I can make her food. But I can’t do her job for her.

A few months. I believe she could do it.

An entire year. After this new information I’ve gotten... tbh. No. I agree with them. She can’t do it.

But my friend is like one of the luckiest humans so she does has the high possibility of running into string of good luck that gets her where she wants to be.

Why can’t I be lucky :(

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